


Unexpected

by thefuckboydraco



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: First Time, Gay Porn Hard, M/M, Patrick Kane Invented Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 11:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefuckboydraco/pseuds/thefuckboydraco
Summary: They've been on the verge of this for a long, damn time. But even Jonathan Toews is unprepared sometimes.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN. SOMETIMES YOU NEED TO GO GAY PORN HARD. This is unbeta'd and probably bad but desperate times okay, sweetpeas?

Jonny’s skin feels overheated from the sudden shift from outdoors to inside, and the alcohol in his system isn't helping. They have four days between games over the Christmas holiday and both of their families are coming to Chicago this year. Somehow, with the impending parental interlude, the waltz they've been doing since the summer feels like it’s about to reach a deafening crescendo. Something past the occasional drunken kiss in a bathroom stall and empty promises via text message that Jonny’s “gonna get his mind blown one day.”

Kaner shuts the door to his apartment and immediately turns on Jonny with bright eyes and big, feral smile. The kind of smile that means he's looking for a little bit of trouble. Jonny’s seen it before, directed at him even, but not under these circumstances.

“Hey Kaner,” Jonny says, voice a little raspy.

“Jonny.” His smile shifts into a teasing smirk and he boxes Jonny in, his hands on either side of Jonny’s waist. Kaner looks up at him and tilts his head.

“The leftovers--” Jonny starts to say.

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Fuck them?”

“Oh yeah,” Kaner says, pressing in even closer. One of his hands drops down to tug the paper bag out of Jonny’s hand. He lets it fall to the floor. “They'll keep.”

Jonny swallows. His overcoat isn’t terribly thick, but he feels like the wool is going to suffocate him as Kaner manages to get a knee between his two, hand coming to land on his hip, the other at his collar--and his smile is back, unfamiliarly close-mouthed and sultry. He licks his lips. Jonny swallows again.

“You’re gonna have to take this coat off,” Kaner says, sliding his hand up, up, up Jonny’s side beneath his buttondown, around to the sweat-dappled arch of his lower back.

Jonny pulls his shoulders helplessly back at the shivery touch. His coat shifts with the movement, and then he’s is tugging it off and down his arms. It lands on the ground with the discarded leftovers. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he puts then on Kaner’s head, fingers coming together at the back of his neck, sliding through soft curls.

“So,” Jonny says. He arches an eyebrow. Kaner’s knuckles are stroking up and down his back.

“This is when the kissing starts.”

“I see.” He’s prepared to make a joke, but then Kaner is actually kissing him, soft mouth sliding over his. He tastes like beer and dessert he shouldn’t have had, like the sweet jelly on strawberry cheesecake. The hand on his back rests over the curve of his ass and Jonny actually moans, which is just--a little untenable really. It makes Kaner pull back some and smile at him, his thumb actually dipping past the waistband of Jonny’s brief like he’s got plans for it.

“Can I show you to the bedroom?”

“Is the wall too classy for you?”

“Wow,” Kaner says, lifting up both eyebrows and sounding out every single letter like they haven’t just been making out. “ _Wow_.”

“Lead the way.”

“You know where it is.”

Kaner steps away and Jonny can’t help but roll his eyes. He can hear Patrick putting away the take-out in the fridge and folds his coat over the back of the couch, lingers on the edge of the living room, out of Kaner’s line of sight, but not quite comfortable enough to actually go down the hall to the bedroom by himself. He is straightening his shirt when Kaner comes back.

“Get lost?”

“Fuck off, dude.”

“Something like that,” Kaner says, rolling his hips like he’s about to step into some lunges. “C’mere.”

He actually takes Jonny’s hand, which is weird, but also kind of nice, but mostly weird. It makes Jonny think about girls. The kinds of girls Patrick might have led down the hall from this very dim, open layout room, in full view of the picture windows while they gigglingly called him _Patrick_ , and flipped hair deftly off their slim little shoulders with a slender hand. Kaner stops at the bedroom door and kisses him again, this time pressed against the frame, and Jonny tries to stop thinking very much at all. When they break apart Kaner undoes the top two buttons of his own shirt and his mouth looks so thoroughly red and wet that Jonny take three clumsy steps backward into the room. He has the distinct sense that this night is going to get wildly out of control, but that cutting his loses and going for broke is the best course of action given the circumstances: Kaner’s mouth, his gentle but demanding hands, the fact that Jonny has, in some way, been working toward this with him for literal years.

And the fact that he would really, really like to fuck right now.

"Make yourself comfortable," Kaner says with a leer. He gestures at his bed, which is massive, a behemoth of a sleep vessel. Totally ridiculous. Jonny sits, and the mattress gives gently under him.

"Would you...." he says, then falters. He coughs.

Kaner pulls his phone out and puts on some music. The building walls are thick, likely soundproof, at least noise dampening enough that Jonny could scream himself raw and no one would be the wiser, but music feels like the right choice. It puts his mind at ease a little, another layer of privacy to what they're doing, maybe a little bit of distance for him to take it all in from, too. His lips feel so swollen, because Kaner bites. He's not surprised.

"Would I what?" Patrick asks, without looking up from the Spotify app as music starts to spill out from hidden speakers.

It's easier to talk to his hair anyway. "I was hoping you'd fuck me. That you'd want." Jonny swallows. "That you'd want to fuck me. "

Patrick looks up, and his incredibly expressive face shifts through a series of emotions that Jonny can't parse before landing on unsure. He brings a hand to his mouth, gnaws lightly at one of his knuckles, and looks at Jonny from beneath his lashes. He puts his phone down on the dresser.

" _Yeah_ ," he says. "Yeah, I wanna fuck you.”

Patrick has said a lot of _things_ to him, mostly in slur that was hard to take too seriously--but he couldn’t clearer now. Jonny shivers, his shoulders contracting. “Okay,” he says. Cool.”

“Fuck, I just didn't think--"

"No. That's what I think. That's what I'll like."

Patrick tilts his head. "What you think?"

"I mean, I haven't yet. Just me, you know?"

"Jesus," says Patrick, coming over to his boat sized bed and sitting down next to Jonny, close enough to press them together from shoulder to thigh. "Jesus, I had no idea you--"

"Don't make it weird," Jonny cuts him off quickly. He doesn't want to hear some kind of awed exploration of why Patrick didn't expect him to bottom, or why he didn't expect Jonny to think he would top.

"I've done this," Patrick says instead. He takes one of Jonny's hands between his own two, and they're almost of a size. "I'm not an expert but I've done this. The way you want."

"Oh. But you didn't--"

"I don't think you get." Patrick smiles at him disarmingly, his dimples tucking into his cheeks. "Listen, you have no idea what I would do if it means getting you naked and getting you here."

Here means this bed, where he's going to get fucked for the first time, where _Kaner_ is going to fuck him.

"C'mere," Jonny says, anticipation swirling in his stomach. He puts his hands on Patrick's face and draws him close again. He wants to kiss away this moment of awkwardness, he wants to get Patrick all over him again. They kiss sitting next to one another, slower than before, when it felt like they were trying to devour each other. This kiss is deeper, longer, with Patrick's clever tongue sliding against his, tasting the roof of Jonny's mouth, his teeth.

It's the kind of making out that leaves you pleasantly nauseous, like your body doesn't know how to manage the onslaught of all that foreign saliva, and even exploratory kissing like this with Patrick is kind of sloppy. It's become very apparent that Patrick loves to kiss.And Jonny will concede that Patrick's mouth--his plump lips, always a little wet and slicked in cherry Chapstick--was made for kissing.

“Lay down, let’s get these off,” Patrick says, pushing him back and going for clasp on his pants. Both of their shirts are askew and Patrick’s is mostly undone. Jonny hadn’t realized he’d done that.

“You’re sure you want--”

“You know I do, baby.”

“ _Baby_ ,” Jonny repeats. He almost laughs, but shivers again and lifts up his ass to let Patrick pull his pants off. He half expects some kind of juvenile comment about his erection, but Patrick just licks his lips and that’s. Worse.

“These too,” he says. “And the shirt.” He tugs at Jonny’s boxer briefs before pulling off his own shirt, and starting on his on jeans. And he’s got a bottle of lube and a condom when Jonny’s shirt comes away from his head.

Jonny holds out his hand. “Give me that. I’ll do it.”

“No dude, Don’t you want to like, fool around some more? I’m gonna--”

“Just give it to me. You can watch.”

“Tazer, that’s not exactly how I--”

“Just _watch_.”

“Oh.” Patrick’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, yeah. Okay. Here. Fuck yeah, give me a show.”

Jonny rolls his eyes, but he settles back against the pillows, little plastic bottle in hand, and shimmies off his briefs. Patrick takes this big, desperate gulp of air when his dick springs free from the fabric, and Jonny finds he can’t even look at him, at his big eyes or the way he’s caught his lower lip between his teeth. It makes his erection twitch against his thigh, and so he closes his eyes before he scoots one foot up the bed and bends his knee to get at himself. He’s never been uncomfortable about nudity. Hard to be when you’re a professional athlete. But the cold air on his asshole, and the way Patrick’s breathing speeds up when he slips lube-wet fingers up behind his thigh, makes his heart pound. He adjusts his wrist, slips his forefinger into the first knuckle, and feels the familiar strangeness of breaching himself.

He tries to keep still for a moment, to get used to it, but Patrick makes a barely audible sound and then there’s a hand gripping his ankle and a breathy “holy fuck” from down by his other foot that makes him jolt his finger all the way inside with a rough, fresh drag.

“Fuck,” Kaner says again, louder this time, nearly a whine.

Jonny pumps his hand a few times. In and out, in and out. He finds the rhythm of it.

“Fuck, babe,” mutters Kaner, fingers tightening at the jut of his anklebone. “You look so good. Like fucking porn.”

“You watch a lot of porn like this?” Jonny adds another slick finger to the first, twists his wrist slightly.

“I’d watch this porn forever.”

“I know you would.” He scissors his fingers. Relishes the burn of it.

“I’m gonna fucking nut just watching you.”

Jonny opens one eye, and Patrick is, in fact, stroking himself avidly, eyes locked on the place where Jonny’s hand is tucked back behind his balls. He lifts his ass a little to give a better view.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “How--” he breathes. “How will I come on your cock if you do?”

“Fuck, Tazer. Don’t say shit like that.” Patrick’s hand stops, like he’s holding himself off. “You’re gonna kill me. Do you want another?” His hand twitches on his cock. “Can I--”

“No, just.” Jonny pulls his fingers free, and bends his other knee. He could take more, but he’s ready. He knows what he can take, and how he wants to take it, and he wants to feel this. Patrick has--a big cock. He’s seen it before and this close it looks bigger than he remembers, but he wants it, even though he’s never had it before. He crooks a lubed-up finger at Patrick. “Just come here.”

Patrick basically scrambles over him, tearing open the condom as he goes, and hastily covering himself with it.

“You want it like this, baby?” Patrick asks, leaning over him. Jonny can feel his hard cock brushing against the bottom of his ass. “On your back like this?”

He nods.

“You ready?”

He nods again.

“Tazer, say something.”

“Fuck me,” he says. “I want it like this.”

Patrick snorts, but he takes one of Jonny’s calves in hand and lifts his leg up until he’s got his resting on his chest and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby. Here goes.”

At first Jonny tries to stay quiet. It burns, he knew it would burn. He’s wet with lube, and Patrick put more on his cock, but he’s thicker than any of Jonny’s limited toy collection. Fuck, it’s a good burn though.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he says, before he thinks not to.

Patrick grins at him and pulls back before pushing in more firmly. He grips Jonny behind his other knee and holds his legs apart, holds him open. “You like that?”

Jonny nods, vigorously. He tucks his chin down; wants to see what it looks like to have Patrick’s dick in his ass so badly, not to just feel the stretch of it. He moans when Patrick shifts a little and it lifts his ass up off the bed and makes the feeling even deeper, like he’s getting fucked inside out somehow. Like, and he knows it’s impossible, but like he could maybe see Patrick fucking him through pulled-tight skin of his stomach. It makes him clench around Patrick’s cock hard, and shiver all the way through. He reaches for his own cock.

“Yeah, touch yourself,” Patrick says, breathy, but steadily fucking into him. “Make yourself come for me. You feel so good, Tazer. Like--” he thrusts in especially hard. “Like you were made for my cock.”

“Oh my god,” Jonny says. “Shut up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick sounds a little crazed, his hair sticking sweaty to his forehead. “That your ass was made for me?”

And that’s it, somehow. That’s Patrick shuddering all over before going still and coming hard, his hands contracting as he pulses inside of Jonny’s body, his orgasm apparent even through the condom. “Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he’s saying, before pulling out faster than Jonny thought was possible and positioning himself on his stomach, face right where his cock was.

“What the--” Jonny lifts his head up, caught up by the sight of Patrick’s hair framed by his thighs. “Oh my _god_.”

“Keep going,” Patrick says, mostly to his skin, and he’s sliding his tongue into the open space his cock left behind, gripping Jonny’s asscheeks to keep him open. It’s fucking _filthy_ : wet, and loud, and Patrick makes an “mmmmm” sound like he’s starving for it.

Jonny’s coming hard over his own fist before he really knows what hit him, come arching high into the air when Patrick adds two fingers alongside his tongue. Jonny could swear he says, “fuck yeah,” into his stretched out asshole, but he’s too fucking gone to really care that Patrick is the worst, but also, categorically at this point, something like the best.

When he comes down from this, though, they’re going to have to talk.


End file.
